


what child is this?

by Glitchedwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchedwings/pseuds/Glitchedwings
Summary: Claire meets the new addition.
Relationships: Castiel & Claire Novak, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 92
Collections: DAU Secret Santa 2020





	what child is this?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starsonyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starsonyx/gifts).



She can’t think about it, sometimes. But she knows how to fix it. When the weight of the world gets to be too much, Claire goes hunting.

Taser in hand, Claire descends the stairs to the basement carefully. Normal suburban house, the mom out, kids with a babysitter. She set all that up, with Jody’s help, because she knows the importance of a plan now, after— focus. She shifts back into hunting brain. Kill the bad thing, go eat burgers; easy, simple math. The steps barely even creak and she reaches the bottom easily, steeling herself before rounding the corner and confronting the space under the stairs.

The rawhead may be strong, but it doesn’t get a chance to demonstrate because she catches it off-guard with her almost-still-babyfaced appearance. It hesitates in confusion—prey or threat?—and that’s when she makes her move, aiming the taser and striking like lightning. Claire wipes her forehead and grins in satisfaction as the body crisps, then cools. 

Sam and Dean had given her a tip for this one, said they were coming to town as backup even though that makes little to zero sense. A rawhead in her own town and they think she needs backup? She rolls her eyes as she clomps back up the stairs, dragging the dead meat with her. (Least favorite part of the job, but she’s not complaining about the muscles it gives her.) She’d been able to take out a singular rawhide without their help, thank you very much. No guns or knives even involved! It’s practically family friendly! And she’s not that shivering 12 year old they still think of her as, so the looks on their faces when they show up and she’s already finished the job… that will be priceless. She’s also sure the golden oldies have better things to do than come fry one little monster. But, well, who is she to complain about seeing them again after such a long time? Maybe she won’t admit it to their faces, but she has missed them.

-~-

After disposing of the body she takes new aim, driving for a few minutes before she pulls into the nearest hunter hangout, which doesn’t look like much but is at least a grill and a tap and homey enough that she doesn’t feel skeeved out. Not that she needs any help protecting herself, she shoots to the Jody-voice in her head that always cautions her about this place. Plus, she has friends here.

Alex is already here after her shift, and she waves Claire over. They’re at a table in the corner, a prized spot in any hunting establishment. Yes, Claire’s staying closer to home now, but that doesn’t mean she has to give up all the creature comforts of life on the road, namely greasy food, a few beers outside the watchful eyes of her moms, and some bad conversation. As she crosses the room she takes in the amazing, disgusting smells of potatoes deep-frying and burgers sizzling. Yummy. Smells like kentucky fried rawhead.

She greets the table and slides into the booth, saying hi to Alex and the other hunters who she’s at least friendly with. Tonight there’s Kendall, a 20-30-something firecracker who Claire thinks is the coolest bitch ever to exist and who probably lights fires in her free time; Rick and Andy, a father-son duo who look like they’d be just as comfortable at a golf course as at this dump; and Bruce, who’s 50 going on 80 but tells the best hunting stories, even better than the Winchesters’. In fact, the Winchesters are often the topic of his stories, and Claire loves to listen to them and catalogue all the inaccuracies in her head, or argue them outloud when she’s had a drink. Half fact half fiction, like all hunters. 

With just her luck, Bruce seems to be right in the middle of some-such story tonight.

“And then the three of them trapped Lucifer, the biblical Devil, in a cage in Hell. After being resurrected by God himself. And from then on, the Winchesters had an Angel on their rolodex. Time was we had never even heard of such things.” Bruce raises his eyebrows, as if to say, _badass_. This is a well-worn story, and they all nod. 

Claire smiles at the waitress, who comes over and takes her order of cheeseburger, rare. Sizzled flesh is still on her mind, so she figures she’ll shift to the opposite end and eat like a werewolf tonight, practically raw. Don’t forget the onion rings.

Eager to be included, Rick has joined in with his own anecdote. He’s still green, but so was Claire not so very long ago—he may be a lot older than her, but they all respect each other here. She steals the rest of Alex’s fries and texts Jody that the hunt went well as she listens and waits for her order to arrive. She'll clean the grease off her phone later.

“Did you hear that the angel, Castiel, _sold_ his soul to the King of Hell? The Winchesters wouldn’t have that, though, and they literally went to find him in hell, and it took a whole year to climb back out!” Rick smiles in pride at contributing to the conversation. “And then Castiel dated the King, or something? I thought I heard that.”

Claire’s feeling upbeat after her successful hunt, so she pushes back. “You’re thinking of Purgatory. And angels don’t even have souls, duh.” Just then the waitress brings her order, giving an up-ticked brow at the angel comment.

Rick looks a little put off his rhythm, and Andy is looking at her a little too doe-eyed. Kendall, on the other hand, is grinning like a shark. Claire scoffs and rolls her eyes to Alex.

“It's just that the Winchesters aren’t badasses, they’re like Sourpatch Kids, nothing but gooey fluff on the inside.”

Bruce huffs affectionately. “Oh, I forgot, you know the Winchesters like family, and my aunt’s Oprah.”

Everyone laughs, Claire and Alex in a different way than the rest of the table. Yeah, Castiel is practically her father, and also wearing her dead father, but she’s not gonna drop that trump card, probably ever. Plus her mouth is full of burger right now. Not to be outdone, Kendall goes next.

“Well this one I heard from a friend of mine who’s a bit of a liar, not that I’m anything but pure honey.” She makes a fake innocent face, and Claire leans in, dinner forgotten. “Can’t even associate with some folk. Anyway, this kid says that the Winchesters know God.”

Rick scoffs, but Bruce nods, quickly, dismissive. “Yeah, we’ve all heard this story, sweetheart. God is a dick. And that’s a fact.” He points at Rick and Andy, who, skeptics a second ago, seem to take it to heart. Or are at least intimidated by the old hunter.

“No, no,” says Kendall. “Yeah they knew the old God or whatever, but my friend says that they defeated him, and their kid is the new God.”

Bruce sprays beer over half the table. Claire groans as she wipes her face, and Bruce goes, belligerently, “Which one of them had the kid?? Riddle me that!”

“Well my friend says they adopted him from Lucifer.” Kendall grins like she knows it’s horseshit, and they all break out in laughter again. Claire doesn’t, though, thinking hard. Jack is God? Does that even make sense? How powerful is a God-Nephilim? The last she’d heard of him he’d been an awkward teenager, was the impression she got. Though she’d never met him, no expert either.

“Well your friend is full of it,” Bruce guffaws. “Whew, I’ll steal that punchline from you for later, thanks.” He wipes his forehead. “Naw, but those guys are the real deal. Can’t quite agree with all the shit I’ve heard they've done, if it's true, but even if it is true we still owe them quite a rap. Would be nice to go hunting with them one time or other.” Alex and Claire grin at each other as Bruce enters his fanboy tone. “I just know I’ll run into them on a hunt someday.”

Chirrup! Claire glances at her texts, sends off a response, then back up, telling her story around bites of onion fries. “Well if we're trading... this one I know for certain, and it’s that both Crowley and his mother were personal friends of the boys. Even after all that stuff with Cas. It was practically a buddy-movie.” She chews.

(“Crowley?” Andy asks his dad, quietly. “King of Hell, at some point,” he replies.)

“I heard Rowena was practically the fun aunt. Not that I’m all warm and fuzzy about witchcraft, but sounds like she could’ve been entertaining to meet.”

(“Rowena?” Andy asks his dad. “No freaken clue.” Rick responds.)

“Ehh,” says Kendall, leaning back and sipping on her drink. “So would that mean they’re in bed with the enemy, or are they playing them?”

“The enemy’s in bed with them!” Bruce retorts. “Though I don’t know that I’d trust Mr. Blood Boy with the king of Hell running around his house.”

“Ah, lighten up you old kook,” Kendall replies, hitting his shoulder. “That was eons ago. Sam’s, like, an organizer now.”

“How soon the young folk forget,” Bruce grumbles, but he lays off. He turns. “Let this be a lesson, Andy—“

At that moment, Bruce’s eyes light upon something across the room. “Holy mother… is that?”

Everyone turns to look. Bruce takes off his hat, shakily.

“Hi guys! Find the dive okay?” Claire says, cheerily, as Cas and Dean make their way towards the table. Even Kendall is speechless.

“Yeah, we just followed the smell of teen spirit to this place,” Dean quips. He shrugs his jacket off and pulls up a chair, and Claire quirks a smile as hello.

“Hey Cas.”

“Hello, Claire. Alex.” He looks at her with his now familiar unsettling gaze. The entire table looks back at him, transfixed. Rick’s mouth is hanging open. “Who are your... friends?”

“Don’t worry, you old man. They’re all cool.” Claire checks in with the table that yes, they are in fact cool. She shrugs. “We were actually just discussing your greatest hits.”

Dean’s expression reads: _this is why I don’t frequent hunter bars_. Claire dazzles him with a goading smile.

“Pretty impressive list of accomplishments there,” Bruce says, almost bashful. “D’love to hear your side of events.”

Dean does a mouthless smile, eyes only, then stares daggers at Claire. “Yeah man, we’ve seen a lot,” is all he offers up.

“No Sam?” Claire asks, and Cas shakes his head. “Honeymooning with Eileen.”

“Oh that’s gross… good for him.”

“Couldn’t be prouder of the bugger,” Dean says, and the table titters an astonished laugh. Dean Winchester and Castiel, here in the flesh! They’re practically celebrities. Andy has a look on his face as if Lancelot himself is eating fries with him in a sticky diner.

Claire can see everyone at the table gearing up to ask their most burning questions, so she cuts them off before they can start just yet. She introduces them one by one.

“Anyway, these are the guys. They’re in town for a rawhead hunt they didn’t think I could take care of. Good thing I already took care of it,” she gripes. She’s actually a little stung, still. 

“Oh, I knew you could take care of it,” Dean grins, lopsided. “We just wanted an excuse for you to meet our son.”

Suddenly, everyone’s gaze lights on a little mop of hair standing at Cas’ knees, wearing a tiny jacket and velcro shoes. The whole diner fades out as everyone stares. Cas pushes him slightly forward, as a prompt. He takes it.

“I’m Jack!” He waves his hand, looking back at Cas for approval, his giant eyes startlingly blue.

Alex breaks the silence, because everyone else has gone limp. “Hi Jack! How old are you?”

He looks back at Cas again, who smiles.

“Three!” He jumps and runs up to Dean, who picks him up and puts him in his lap. “That’s right buddy,” he says.

No one says anything, eyes wide as saucers, until Bruce mutters “I thought their son was God? Is this an infant Jesus thing?” 

Claire nearly asphyxiates with laughter.

-~-

The ice at the table shatters and everyone explodes, laughing and asking Jack overlapping questions, directing some to Dean. Dean slaps the table and says he'll need some grub in him before he even thinks about sharing, and they scramble to comply.

Kendall leans forward and starts a very solemn conversation with Cas as he wrestles with a booster seat for Jack, which he either managed to find in this shack or, more likely, brought all the way from home. Cas converses with her as he methodically adjusts it, steals Jack from Dean’s lap, and starts him in on his toddler-approved food. Claire can only stare in confused wonderment at this little family unit. If tears are maybe choking up her throat just a little, she’s taking that to her grave. Watching her dead-dad-surrogate-dad-angel-of-the-lord tenderly care for this baby… well, it makes her feel things, most of them fuzzy.

Just as she’s thinking this, Cas looks up at her. “Claire.” He says evenly over the hubbub. “It’s very good to see you.” She smiles, and he continues. “Tell me about your new life?”

Maybe there’s always a new development, but when the weight of the world gets to be too much, she knows she has them too.

-~-

She can't believe she forgot.

“Wait, wasn’t Jack a teenager??” Maybe she’s misremembering what they’ve said but… 

Silence falls. Dean looks constipated, and Cas looks caught off-guard.

“Well,” Cas says, “it’s a long story.”

“I’ve been waiting all night for one of those,” Bruce says, and Dean nods at Cas, and Cas gives in, and they settle in to listen.

**Author's Note:**

> Just something fun inspired by your post about hunter gossip :^) Didn't mean for it to become so Claire-centric, but I went with it. Happy holidays!


End file.
